


Bless You, Jeeves!

by discostew



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse, WODEHOUSE P. G. - Works
Genre: Coming Out, Gay Male Character, Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Other, gay bertie, no ships here just to let you know, use of outdated terms/language to keep the 20s/30s shite correct
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 19:51:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15979277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discostew/pseuds/discostew
Summary: Jeeves advises Bertie onto a short path of self-realization.





	Bless You, Jeeves!

Now, I'm finally going to recount one of the most bally fantastic things Jeeves has ever done for me, and I hope I can get my point across well enough that anyone can get the whatsit of what I'm saying.   
  
You see, on this particular iteration of my day, I was just under a month home from one of my stints in the Big Apple and was having an afternoon sit down and enjoying a gin and tonic, something I very well hadn't had the blasted time to blasted do since my triumphant return to Blighty. Allow me to explain,  
  
I had just escaped yet another engagement to a girl that I at first rather fancied, but I eventually found her presence made my brain ache like it was being wrung out like a cloth. I'm not the most interesting chap myself, but all this girl seemed to talk about was her friends, and incidents in her life which usually also involved her nights out with said friends, and despicable things men said to her sometimes and other similar things that befell a gal of her status. She was quite an attractive lady, I give her that, but the more I'd think about it, the more the thought of her physical appearance made me want to run to the nearest fire exit. It wasn't that she wasn't gorgeous, or that I didn't like her, I just wanted to run more than I had when the engagements were unwilling.   
  
Anyway, I was a decent six or seven months into this relationship at the time, which started when I had to trot off to America to help out an old chum of mine (or rather chums, plural) with financial and  other troubles that only someone who's name is spelled J E E V E S could spell out (not to discredit my own input, of course.)    
I met her in a cafe that had the most delicious slice of cake I'd ever had, which was in a little town in Long Island called somethingorrather. I'd been paying a visit to my old friend Rocky, and she happened to be a quite distant neighbour of his. We originally sent each other letters back and forth, but eventually, she found her way into New York City -having found a job as a designer of Women's Hats- and we spent quite a lot of time together, and before I knew it she forced me into an engagement. I didn't have much in common with her but persevered because I didn't nearly have the heart to disappoint her. She was quite enamored with me, dangerously so, to be absolutely frank.   
  
  
Anyhow, I'd had to go home after a while, six months, as I said, and had plenty of time to think on the liner back, and when I got back to England and had a return lunch at the Drones I'd thought even more, and then when I got home I did a tad more thinking while taking a bath, and I made the decision to call the whole thing off but.. I hadn't really the guts to tell her.  
I'd tried to break it off before I left for home- tragic goodbye angle, and all that, play it as her summer romance- but she started threatening to fling herself into the nearest body of water, and I found myself drinking and spewing morose tripe until I became too wrenched with guilt for hurting the poor girl and the fear that she may actually do it, and reneged on what I said.  
But now, I felt it was life or death for _me_ to end it. I thought a Long Distance Phone call or a letter or Telegram would do the trick, but was it worth it? I liked her. She was planning to move over here to be with me. I wanted to go to Australia or someplace out in the sticks like that to avoid the whole thing, really. I didn't want a young lady's demise on my hands. I had enough on them- currently some spilled tonic water. 

I was sitting and thinking about a man I'd seen earlier that day with a rather spiffy grey jacket with pinstripes only about the sleeves. The issue was, I didn't like that jacket. I thought it was rather terrible. I felt like I was forcing myself to like the jacket instead of something else. I liked the concept of this fellow with the horrible jacket that I had never once spoken to much more than my soon-to-hopefully-be ex-fiancee. I was also thinking about how I bally well seemed to hate the company of women in a more than fun-and-games sort of way. I didn't want them near me, or to touch me, outside of a friendly situation, and I definitely didn't want to get close to a lady. But I'd gladly share a bed with another chap if the situation needed. It felt like a double standard that a schoolboy scared of cooties should have, not a young gentleman such as myself. I couldn't work it out, I felt like I had something waving its hands in front of my eyes, while at the same time another something was blindfolding me and smacking me in the back of the noggin with a cricket bat.

"I just can't work it out, Jeeves," I said "I feel like I hate women sometimes, not hate in the mean old blighter sort of way, but... hate their company. In a non-friend way. I don't want to date a girl nor be engaged to one nor take one out to dinner unless it's all for laughs. They make me feel queasy and bally .. bally.. bally like I'm forcing down a food I don't like. Or something bally like that. And I find their bodies rather strange, too. Probably why I'm still ... Galahad-ly, ahah."

Jeeves hovered near me with a magazine in hand; some blasted interior design thingamajig another valet had given him a lend of- what angles for beds and colours of sinks were in vogue and such-and-such, anyway, anyway, he was hovering over near me and he said "A most upsetting situation, Sir. Will you be having the pasta for dinner tonight?"

"Yes, that sounds rather tasty for this sort of predicament. Are you making the one with the olive oil and cheese?" 

"That I will be...  
If you will permit me to say it, Sir, I think I may be able to give some advice relevant to this."

"Oh? Well, say it and what then."

"Perhaps you are a 'Man's Man'."

"A Man's Man? Are you saying I'm a Valet at heart?"

"No, Sir. I'm saying, perhaps you 'prefer the company of men'".

"Oh, rather I do!"

"No, Sir. What I.. Mr. Wooster, Sir. If you'd allow me to be crass here."

"Well, what is it?"

"You are gay."

"Gay? I suppose I am a merry blighter, eh?"

"No, Sir. While I agree that you are one of the more jubilant members of the population, the meaning of 'gay' that I am referring to perhaps has not yet reached the ears of the Upper Classes- though, I have heard a few of your 'chums' use it in this context- I am referring to men who are attracted romantically, physically and emotionally to other men. That is to say, that they love them. I'm sure you understand what I'm saying." 

I sat there aghast for a minute after that. I didn't feel insulted, or disgusted or confused of any sort. More like, my brain had just clicked over and the wringing feeling was gone and I was finally free of something. God had just reached down and removed a too-tight hat from my head. My lungs felt like they were taking in oxygen for the first time, and I could see somewhat of a future for myself that I hadn't been able to see before. I also felt in a mood to actually eat my vegetables. 

"You knew this the entire time, didn't you? Why didn't you just save me the trouble of all this.. trouble and tell me?"  

"It would not have been a particularly a good idea, Sir. The current climate towards homosexual people is not a good one. There is a necessity for use of a secret language due to its illegality. It is mostly used among men. A fair few of the Drones have also shown a disdain towards 'queers'. I do hear though, Sir, that there is a rather accepting and rising scene in Berlin and various other parts of Europe, so I would suggest a holiday if you were to .. er, pursue this. There are groups within London, however, for people in your position. I knew several fellow valets whose Gentlemen are longtime members." 

"Golly.. " I didn't know what I'd quite stepped into. He really does think of everything.

"Jeeves," I began, I could feel the ol' body start to shake a tad, there was a certain frightening aspect to self-revelations such as this "Call up the lady and tell her that I'm dead."

"It is already done, Sir."

"Bless you, Jeeves."  

      

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't too good but it's pretty much a venting sort of thing. I wrote this at 1am and edited it at 10pm haha. Hope it was enjoyable.. I actually want to write quite a bit of Jeeves & Wooster related things so if I could get feedback it'd be appreciated. Thanks!


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